It’s true. Any way the wind blows…it blows on creation. Not accidents. Not happenstance. Creation. The deeper our scientific research tools can dig, the more we see this is true. That’s great news, in spite of what skeptics might say or think, because being able to see the complexity in a single living cell can give you the assurance you’re not alone. Even scientists who don’t believe in God appear to want to believe “we’re not alone”. They conjure up aliens and “ingredients for life” at every opportunity. But they can’t explain life. And that’s because…
Life isn’t about “ingredients” that come from dirt or electricity or primordial soup. Life isn’t material. Life is spirit. And life doesn’t occur spontaneously. It doesn’t come from non-life. Life comes from life. It’s the only possible way it can. Now, that assertion doesn’t have to lead you to a Creator God…although I hope it does or will. But if you don’t believe a living God created us and put His spirit of life into us, you’re left only with options that assert life came from non-life. The problem with that is…there’s no way you can even remotely prove it. When I say life comes from life, all you have to do to see it’s true is look to your parents. And their parents. And their parents’ parents. And so on and so on. Each time a baby is born, it’s a life coming from another life.
Trillions of years of random chance could never create one single eyeball…let alone a complex human body and mind. That’s why I say any way the wind blows you’re not alone. Because the wind, and the fields and meadows and mountains it blows across, were all created by the same living, loving God who made you. He’s the source of life, love, and logic. And you can’t explain those three things with random chance. Do you think you can? Tell me how.
Here’s an example of life, love, and logic in a poem called…
Pleasure Wind
The island’s gentle zephyr
Ran its fingers through the sand.
The epitome of friendly winds
Must have held on to its hand.
Did you know the Lord stores it
In a corner of the sky
Where the people of the world
Can it enjoy it passing by?
Tie your hair up with a piece of velvet.
Stroll a year or maybe ten
In the shadow of a zephyr.
You’ll stroll back, I know, again.
And nevermore be you blue,
Ever be you merriment.
Make no mind of the money
Or the time that has been spent.
Try not to be an island
In an air of all alone”
For even with a zephyr
You’re not much more than a stone.
Gentle wind, come again”
Blow just as you please.
Islands alone, like people of stone,
Can use a pleasant breeze.
© 1974 Tony Funderburk
Stay tuned,
